


a lost heart, broken in two

by disgusting_horny_bitch



Series: dbh is sad rn [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: And I Fucking Obliterated It, Angst, But It's Not The One He Needs, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne Whump, Damian Wayne-centric, He Does Get One, Hurt Damian Wayne, Hurt No Comfort, I guess y'all on the bird app had something to do with that, I just felt inspired all of a sudden, I love y'all so much, M/M, No Beta We Die Like Jon, Sorry Dami, Spoiler: Suicide, Suicide, thank you, what about it, ya fuckin saps, yes this was written in less than an hour
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:21:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29894847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disgusting_horny_bitch/pseuds/disgusting_horny_bitch
Summary: He's gone. And it's all Damian can think about.
Series: dbh is sad rn [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2203653
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	a lost heart, broken in two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rottencloset](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottencloset/gifts), [damipussycomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/damipussycomplex/gifts), [Monsieur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Monsieur/gifts), [Idfk what the rest of y'all's ao3s are Q-Q](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Idfk+what+the+rest+of+y%27all%27s+ao3s+are+Q-Q), [pinklemonade273](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinklemonade273/gifts).



It’s been so long since Damian’s felt this kind of pain. So long in fact, he forgot he was capable of it at all. 

Ra’s would say he was too attached. That he got  _ far _ too attached. And he’s right. He did get far too attached. It hurts to admit but that hurt is miniscule compared to the ache in his chest and the tightness of his throat. His head hurts and is feeling lighter and lighter by the second, and yet it feels like a weight, dragging him in this direction or that. His ribs are the wrong shape. They aren’t too tight or constricting or even too big, they just feel so strangely  _ off. _ And his hands. His hands are so close to shaking that if he didn’t know better he’d think he’s starving. But he’s  _ not _ . He’s not starving, he’s breathing normally and from the outside, he probably seems perfectly fine. But nothing is fine anymore. His world is tilted, twisted and warped in a way that it will never recover from, suddenly so much darker and colder, as if the sun had ceased to exist. 

And in a way, one had.  _ His _ sun. His  _ lover _ . Gone. Long gone. Any trace of him disintegrated. No hope for the pit to bring him back. And from what he had been studying about magic in the recent years, no hope for even that to bring him back. 

His vision was swimming, the ashy-browns of the battlefield melting into themselves, blurry figures darting to and fro, helping civilians as he kneeled, frozen, his hands clenched tight on his knees as he stared ahead, the afterimage of his beloved slowly fading from his sight. 

Not even that was allowed to stay. His eyes pricked with tears. Kent, or rather, in this sensitive moment, he should consider him as Clark, the father who had just lost his son, stood beside him in silence, tears flowing freely down his face. 

Damian couldn’t look at him.

His...family (he hesitated to call them that, after all, getting close to him meant death) had to drag him, unseeing and ragdoll-like, away from that place, from that city. Metropolis. The name gave him a sense of deep bittersweet resentment. Or was it nostalgia? He couldn’t tell anymore. Numbness had taken ahold of him, choking out any other feelings that happened to surface, if only breaching for a moment. It shoved them down, deeper than he could consciously grasp, hiding them from his conscious mind.

But his subconscious knew.

His dreams were plagued with him. His touch, his laugh, simply his  _ presence _ , and Damian always woke feeling achy, feeling melancholy, until the numbness stifled it again and he monotonly went through his day, a grey fog covering everything. He heard without hearing, saw without seeing, touched without feeling, and registered without remembering. He went through his days in a haze. 

Father wouldn’t let him patrol. Gave him the month off, even though he knew he’d simply train for the time he’d be missing of patrol. In a way, he missed it. Like this, he was left to his thoughts and they were getting...dangerous. The more intrusive ones wouldn’t go away.

He no longer had a proper distraction.

The only one who actually attempted to talk to him was Dick. Damian was drawing at the time, at first intending to draw Titus and Alfred, but eventually giving in to his hand’s urge to draw the only thing that really crossed his mind anymore. He had stayed silent during Dick’s speech of ‘if you’re needing it, I’m here for you in any way you want’, and for long after. 

Really, he was grateful that Dick cared at all, but everyone gave him so much space. He wasn’t sure if it was because they thought he needed it or if they simply didn’t want to deal with him. It didn’t matter really, the outcome was the same. It seems that yet again, his pets were the only ones who offered any real comfort.

Damian couldn’t decide if he hated the look in their eyes or not. They looked at him like he was so  _ fragile _ , like he was going to topple over at any second and shatter. And maybe he was. But the pity was almost as bad as the space they had given him. Unknowingly, they pushed him further and further down his spiral. At this point, he couldn’t bring himself to care. They certainly didn’t know how to help him. It didn’t matter, he’d be taking a solution soon.

Clark had come to see him often but Damian always refused. This one day, he had happened to be on the roof, unable to leave when the man flew up to the manor grounds and sat next to him, the guilt chaining him to his spot.

“I’m sorry.” The first words he had spoken since he had lost him. His voice was scratchy and cracked from disuse, but Clark had understood. Finally, Damian looked at him, their pained eyes mirroring each other as they breathed in the increasingly chilly-air of the Novermber sky. Clark reached his arms out and Damian leaned into them hesitantly, tensing when they wrapped around him, but eventually melting into the bulky man’s hold. They sat there for a while, breathing in the other’s presence. They shared their pain. In a way that only fellow heroes could. And yet, Damian continued to spiral.

There was an old church down in the seedier parts of Gotham. It was purely wood and glass, and a beautiful building, despite its dilapidated state. He had shown it to him once. ‘Because of its unique history,’ he had said at the time, when in reality, he had just wanted to see his eyes light up at the sight of the moonlight filtering through the stained glass windows. The land around it was wet, mostly because it was on a much lower level than the rest of the neighborhood, and the houses around it quite far away.

It was the perfect place.

Damian stood, breathing slowly as he prepared the churchgrounds, and despite his atheist beliefs, offering a prayer to whatever god was out there for just one thing, a chance to see  _ him  _ again. At home, his pets were taken care of, a note placed at the side of his bed, and a will that included instructions to auction off whatever of his belongings that could be sold to raise funds for a charity of his family’s choice. 

He dropped a match into the carefully placed trail of gasoline, quickly catching the dry wood of the church on fire and igniting a large blaze. A knife found its way into his throat as his last thought disipated.  _ If it means going to hell again, I’d do it a million times just to see him just once more. _

And with that, Damian Wayne was silent. 

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my fucking god y'all. I posted that thread on twitter and y'all are just too kind. I love y'all so much... QwQ
> 
> BTW I'm not projecting on Damian here lolll. Just wanna make sure it doesn't come off that way. Might write something like that later though.


End file.
